


Vive La Résistance!

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Face Slapping, M/M, Rape Roleplay, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras/Courfeyrac. Written for this prompt on the kink meme. It’s not that Enjolras gets off on the roughness. Or on the pain. Really? It’s the play at resistance he gets off on. TW for rape play, full consent playing as non consent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vive La Résistance!

Courfeyrac’s hand is on his throat as soon as they move into the room, and Enjolras lets out a choked noise despite himself, his hands desperately moving to wrap around the other man’s wrists. “No.” Enjolras says sharply, and Courfeyrac  _laughs_  at him, laughs right in his face.

"I believe I banned that word."

“ _No_.” Enjolras repeats, but then Courfeyrac dips, biting at his lips and forcing Enjolras’ mouth open, tongue wet against Enjolras’ own, and God, God, it feels good, and Enjolras loves this game more than anything in the world.

Enjolras brings his knee up,  _hard_  against Courfeyrac’s thigh (not his balls, this time, because Courfeyrac had had to stop the game entirely the last time he’d done that and sit, wheezing a little, with a bag of peas pressed to his crotch for about an hour), and Courfeyrac let out a noise, grip loosening on the other man’s neck.

Enjolras moves to run, but Courfeyrac grabs him by the collar and pulls him roughly into the bedroom, throwing him onto the bed. “No!” Enjolras says again, and he glares at him. “I don’t want to. I  _won’t_ -“

"Oh, you will." Courfeyrac purrs, and yes, Enjolras things, yes, he  _will_. He grabs Enjolras by the hair and slaps him with his other hand, hard across Enjolras’ cheek: the sound of it rings in the air and particularly in Enjolras’ ear, and Enjolras takes in a loud, sharp gasp. “Aw, poor  _baby_.” Courfeyrac says, and that faux-coo sends heat to Enjolras’ crotch, heat to  _all_  of him. “Did that hurt?” 

“ _Fuck_  you.” Enjolras spits, and then he  _does_  actually spit (not, this time, at Courfeyrac’s eye, because they’d actually had to call Combeferre last time and it was more than mildly embarrassing, even though Combeferre had taken it in his stride), and the result lands at Courfeyrac’s neck, wet and slick. 

"For that," Courfeyrac says, wiping it away with his hand. "All you’re  _getting_  is spit.”

Enjolras whimpers. 

Courfeyrac drags at his clothes with a knife, and during this part Enjolras is still, but as soon as Courfeyrac sets the blade aside he throws a punch, slamming into Courfeyrac’s shoulder, and the brunet snorts. 

"Best restrain you then." He says, and Enjolras struggles as he cuffs his wrists, hooking them in one of the headboard’s metal bars. Enjolras kicks him, but Courfeyrac makes no effort to restrain his ankles too - instead, he leans and fucks two fingers forwards and into Enjolras.

Enjolras prepped himself beforehand, and he was slick and wet and  _open_ , and God, he’d been empty for far too long, and he really, really needed Courfeyrac to fuck him  _now_. Enjolras lets out a choked whine, though, because him being prepped is not part of the game.

"I thought I was getting spit?"

"You’ll be tighter this way." Courfeyrac purrs, and with that he fucks forwards, having lined himself up, and Enjolras lets out a loud groan, arching despite himself. "Oh, look at  _you_ , you little slut. You  _enjoy_  this.”

"Get  _off_  me-“

"Get  _out_ of me, surely.” Courfeyrac retorts, and he begins to thrust. When Enjolras tries to wriggle, shifting his legs, and Courfeyrac grabs the both of them, hooking his hands under Enjolras’ knees and holding them tightly. As his hips move, he makes obscene slapping sounds against Enjolras’ ass, and the blond tries to kick him but the angle makes it impossible, and his thighs  _ache_  for the way they’re held just a little too high up. 

Enjolras tries to writhe, but Courfeyrac lets out a low groan of pleasure. “Oh, keep doing  _that._ You keep clenching, you know - it’s as if you don’t want me to go.”

"You piece of shit-"

"Such language, how _naughty_  of you.” Courfeyrac drops one of Enjolras’ thighs and reaches out, roughly grabbing at his nipples with forefinger and thumb and he  _squeezes_ , making Enjolras let out a cry. He isn’t really much of a masochist, and dear God, it  _hurts_ , and when Courfeyrac dips lower and drags his teeth over the other one, Enjolras lets out a sob.

He kicks Courfeyrac’s arm now, and pulls at the restraints on his wrists, but he can’t get free. Courfeyrac doesn’t take long to come, and when he does he pulls back, his come splattering hot and wet against Enjolras’ stomach.

Enjolras tries to kick him again, but Courfeyrac grabs him by the ankle and squeezes, making him yelp.

"We’re done." Courfeyrac says firmly.

"We’re not, I haven’t safewor-"

"My decision, as we agreed." Enjolras sighs, but he relaxes and lets Courfeyrac lean forward, untying the ropes at his wrists. "God, you’re pretty when we do this." Courfeyrac purrs, and his hand wraps around Enjolras’ cock, moving slowly up and down its length. "You’re so  _desperate_  for it, God, and you fight dirty.”

"Of course I do." Enjolras mumbles, eyes fluttering closed as he shifts his hips up and into the other man’s grip. 

"We need to play a game," Courfeyrac purrs, hand speeding a little. "Where you  _do_  break free, and you turn the tables.”

"Oh, God." Enjolras mutters, and Courfeyrac thumbs over his head.

"Yes, yes, yes- I slap you around, throw you down, quite ready to fuck into you, and you get free, tie me down, use me, take my cock, take my  _ass-“_

 _“_ Courfeyrac-” Enjolras all but wails, and Courfeyrac tightens his hand a little so that Enjolras can come, and he does, God, grabbing tightly at Courfeyrac’s spare arm and digging his nails into the flesh. “You’re a terror.”

"Aren’t I though?" Courfeyrac agrees, and he leans, catching Enjolras’ lips under his own and kissing him in a far more tender fashion that he had before, coaxing Enjolras into going all-but-liquid on the bed. 

"Bathe me." Enjolras requests (it is not a request, it is never a request: it’s a demand, but in a polite tone), and Courfeyrac laughs.

"You can bathe yourself, you know."

"I can’t. You’ve injured me terribly: you’ll have to carry me." Enjolras says airily, and Courfeyrac cannot help his amusement; despite himself, he pulls Enjolras up, and carries him into the bathroom. 


End file.
